Truisms
by StMomo
Summary: A set of fifty ficlets for the Vongola Primo and his Guardians based around selected prompts from the 100truisms challenge community on Livejournal. Reader x Various with some canon elements.
1. Truism 01

**Truism #1: A lot of professionals are crackpots.**

Alaude was the most professional of all the Primo's Guardians. This was something you'd noticed a lot. He was always business-like, polite in his speech. He was all business, calm, cool, reserved, all professional coolness.

But at the same time, he was anti-social, had a bit of love affair with fighting, and would rather have nothing to do with anyone. In fact, he really seemed to dislike everyone and nearly everything. That was weird to you, how he never seemed to need or want anyone. After all, weren't people social by nature? His eccentricities bordered on craziness. He was a professional but a complete and utter weirdo.


	2. Truism 02

**Truism #2: A man can't know what it is to be a mother.**

You screamed out loudly in pain as another contraction ripped through your body. They were coming faster and faster now, rolling over you so quickly that you couldn't tell where one ended and the next one started. But it still wasn't enough, you still weren't diluted enough and those bitches jokingly called nurses (who you most likely would have liked had it not been for the fact that you were in more pain then you had thought humanly possible) were telling you over and over again not to push. But you so wanted to push, to push and push and get this thing out of you, to have this experience be over.

Through all of this, Giotto was by your side, holding your hand no matter how hard you squeezed it (which was bone-crushingly hard - in fact, you'd heard a slight snapping earlier on and he'd have to splint three fingers of the hand you were holding after this), whispering words of comfort or encouragement. His soft eyes were locked onto yours, a reminder of why you were going through this: to bring your child into the world, a beautiful baby who you hoped would inherit those wonderful eyes of his, that would have your hair maybe, or your nose, but would have his eyes and his wonderful attitude.

It was during this ordeal that Giotto became firmly aware of a fact he'd never really thought about. He was really glad that he'd been born a man.


	3. Truism 03

**Truism #3: A name can mean a lot just by itself.**

The seven Guardians of the Vongola were currently closed in a meeting room in the Vongola headquarters, conducting some very serious business. Their faces were set in stony concentration as they discussed matters of the utmost seriousness. There had surely never been a moment that was so serious and as utterly important as this.

And then you charged in, your face contorted with rage. All the Guardians looked up at your interruption, faces furrowed in confusion at your expression. You were normally a cheerful person; it wasn't often that anyone saw you mad.

"Ah, (y/n), is something wrong?" Giotto asked, only to be completely ignored by you. You only had one person you wanted to talk to and you stalked over to him, your rage nearly a visible aura around you. G just looked up at you, wondering what the hell your problem was.

"You!" you said, your tone one of fury. G was surprised by this. As far as he knew, he hadn't done anything to warrant your rage. "I have a bone to pick with you!"

He just stared at you, much like the other Guardians were doing, but his lack of reply didn't disturb you one bit.

"I was bored so I figured I'd do something to occupy my time, right? So I started looking up name meanings just for the hell of it. I found out that Giotto means 'god's peace' and that fits perfectly because Giotto is so damn peaceful! And Alaude means 'skylark' and that fits too because he's just so damn free and detached, just like a bird! Ugetsu has something to do with rain or something like that, I couldn't find the exact meaning, but that doesn't matter! It damn well fits too!"

Here you paused, taking a deep breath as the others kept staring at you. Releasing your deep breath, you continued rambling on.

"Lampo means 'most splendid' and that fits because the kid's a goddamn dandy if I've ever seen one! And Knuckles fits because it tells you basically that he's got something to do with boxing. And Demon Spade fits because it tells you that he's a magnificent bastard by the word demon and that he's most likely as gay as that name sounds! But you, oh you are such a bastard! What the hell kind of name is G? Really, did your momma hate you that much that she couldn't give you a real name? Because I agree with her! I hate you and your crummy name!" you finished up; aiming a kick at his chair that really did nothing more than hurt your foot as you glared down at him.

The Guardians were staring at you, their faces set in either plain confusion, amusement, or aggravation (the aggravation mostly from Alaude, who couldn't believe you'd barged in on an important meeting for something as trivial as that and Demon Spade, who didn't much appreciate the gay comment). It was on that day that the Primo Guardians figured out something they should have known for a while.

You were a complete and total idiot.


	4. Truism 04

**Truism #4: It's better to be naïve than jaded.**

He was staring again, you knew it. The tiny hairs on the back of your neck were standing up and you had that indescribable feeling of someone watching you. It wasn't an entirely unpleasant feeling - that is, you didn't feel like you were in danger but it was very disconcerting. You didn't think he knew that it bugged you because if he did, you didn't think he'd do it.

You turned around to face him, Demon Spade leaning against the door. You were right, he was staring at you. His eyes were locked on you, flickering up from the hem of your skirt to your neck, a smirk playing across his lips. Why was he staring? Oh no, had you spilled something on yourself again? You were forever spilling things on yourself…food, drinks, ink…whatever you were holding usually ended up on yourself. You just had no hand-eye coordination. But it was odd, even when you looked down, checking carefully, you couldn't see anything on your clothes or your skin. Today had been spill-free so far that you remembered.

"Demon Spade? Do I have something on me?" you asked the man, looking up at him with a curious expression on your face. He only chuckled softly before turning around and walking away, leaving you in complete confusion.

You were such a cute and naïve little thing, he'd noticed. You wouldn't recognize a sexual glance or hell, even an outright sexual proposition, though he hadn't tried the latter…yet. But maybe that innocence was okay, he thought. At least you weren't jaded yet, like him. And besides, that innocence of yours would make it just that much better when he decided to soil you.


	5. Truism 05

**Truism #5: All things are delicately interconnected.**

There were times, when you took the time and had the right opportunities, when you wondered about this rag-tag group that you belonged to. Except it wasn't so much a rag-tag group anymore. It had started that way, a mere vigilante group with only two members, Giotto and G.

But over time it had grown, people meeting and joining together. And it was kind of funny, in a not so funny way, how everyone, including you, had seemed to show up at just the right time, arriving when they were needed the most, filling in spots that were needed badly at that time and that no one else could have filled.

And it was at just the right times, when you could observe all your fellow family members in the now mighty Vongola Family, when you had to wonder why you all had ended up together. Had any of you had a say in it or had something else been at work behind the scenes, pushing and pulling strings like a giant puppeteer?

It was a comforting thought and yet it was a sickeningly sinister and terrifying one at the same time.

What had it been that brought you all together?

_Free will? Or fate?_


	6. Truism 06

**Truism #6: Bad intentions can wield good results.**

There wasn't anything innocent or pure in why you were sneaking through the Vongola base late at night, heading to a certain Guardian's room. You tip-toed down hallways, skirted around corners to avoid any late-night traveler's you came across, tried to stay out of sight and quiet. There were no good intentions in this, it was quite the opposite. All your intentions were very, very bad. Though you wouldn't exactly call them bad yourself, just naughty, you knew other people would. You'd actually understand if they did. After all, planning to sneak into the Rain Guardian's room and all but rape him to death would be considered bad to oh, ninety-nine percent of the world's population.

But it was later, pinned under Asari's thrusting, grinding body, his mouth hot as it devoured your mouth, your neck, every bare inch of flesh it could reach that you came to a conclusion. Bad intentions gave the sweetest results.


	7. Truism 07

**Truism #7: Being happy is more important than anything else.**

There had once been a time when boxing was his whole life, the only reason he existed, the thing that kept him getting up every morning happy. But that had been taken away from him when he'd murdered that guy….no, not murdered. After all, he'd never meant to hurt him that bad. He'd only wanted to win the match…that old cliché about not knowing his own strength had just rung too true.

So he'd become a man of God as penance. And he'd been proud when he slipped on the priest's robes and devoted his life entirely to a far-away saviour, to a higher calling. He went through communions, baptisms, marriages. He witnessed and participated, helped and guided. And that had kept him happy for a while but even the happiness from that was starting to wear off a bit.

Because there were moments where he was truly happy now, happier than he remembered being for a long time, but those moments were truly bittersweet. They were moments spent around you, whether with people or alone. Mundane moments like helping you go to the market, watching clouds with you, or just generally hanging out with you were treasures to him. But he wanted much more than that though he tried hard not to think about that. You were nothing if not forbidden, a beautiful woman he couldn't have as the chaste priest and who he hadn't known as the swarthy boxer.

_If happiness was supposed to be the end all and be all, the most important thing in life_, Knuckles wondered sometimes, _why was it so hard to achieve and keep?_


	8. Truism 08

**Truism #8: Boredom makes you do crazy things.**

It was a horrible day outside. Though it was only about half-past ten when you had woken up, the sky was a depressing gray canvas from which torrential floods of rain poured. It wasn't that you didn't like the rain or anything, it was just that the weather was so depressing and meant that you couldn't run around outside. You hated being cooped up inside when there was a great, wide, wonderful world outside waiting for you. But you couldn't make it stop raining.

Inside was boring though and you quickly sank into a state of ennui so deep that you considered many crazy, insane things to do just to keep yourself entertained. By forty minutes past noon, you'd progressed into doing something crazy and rather creepy. It had been inspired, this little mission of yours, by something you'd been reading in a book in fact. The hero in the book had stolen a pair of the sweet damsel's undergarments to remember her by…hmm, panty raids? Why was it always the female getting their knickers stolen? Damn it, you wanted a pair of undies from every damn Guardian now just to advance feminism (and give you something to do).

You'd gotten through almost all the rooms in an amazingly short period of time. All the rooms had been empty which was just your luck and it was simple to just go in, grab what you wanted, and leave. Though you did admittedly spend a few extra seconds in each room every time, giggling softly as you figured out which Guardian preferred briefs over boxers, which Guardian had an extremely cute collection of differently printed or colored boxers, or, in one disturbing case, which Guardian just didn't wear underwear by the looks of it.

It was after you got into the last room, Giotto's in fact, that your luck ran out. You'd managed to get the underwear no problem, adding it to your growing collection. But it was when you left the room, giggling softly still, that you ran into trouble. Because passing the room at that exact time were all seven of the Guardians. As you exited, you all but bumped right into them. Your eyes widened as each of them looked at the underwear you held then back at you. Your face was burning up and you really hoped the floor would've swallowed you up by now. But it didn't and you were left to get out of this your own way.

This was, actually, just throwing the whole big clump of underwear into the grouping of Guardians before turning and making a run for it.

Alaude looked after you, reaching up to pick a pair of horrendously stained boxers off his head, holding them out with a look of disgust before letting them drop from his hands as if contaminated, one of his fellow Guardians scooping them up in mid-air and balling them up, embarrassed.

"Can't you control her?" Alaude hissed, accepting a pair of his own underwear from G., who had just pulled them off his shoulder.

Giotto chuckled lightly, grabbing his own boxers from the floor.

"Come now, Alaude. (Y/N) must just have been bored and she did what she normally does when bored – something she knows will get everyone all worked up. It's best to just ignore her and she'll stop these little stunts soon. And besides, she didn't do anything really horrible. They're just underwear after all."

Alaude glared at Giotto for a moment before he opened his mouth, ready with some sort of logical, yet witty retort before Lampo interrupted any fights that might have been started in his own awkward way, calling out to Daemon Spade's retreating figure.

"Spade...hey, Spade! What's your trick?"

Daemon turned back around, smiling mischievously before answering, his tone a shade too innocent.

"Trick?"

"Yeah," Lampo persisted. "Everyone else got their underwear taken from their rooms besides you so I was just wondering what trick you used to keep your room safe? I use twine around the doorknob but the obviously doesn't work. So what is it? Some kind of creepy illusion or something I could pull off as well."

"Oh, it's quite a simple thing, really," Daemon said, chuckling darkly, his smile growing larger.

"Well, what is it?" By now, he had all everyone's attention.

"Just don't wear underwear," Daemon Spade said, for once displaying perfect logic before turning and walking away, chuckling at the shocked, disgusted or astounded reactions he had momentarily saw and could still hear as he retreated once more.


	9. Truism 09

**Truism #9: Children are the most cruel of all.**

You were sitting at the kitchen table, heels kicked up, stuffing junk food into your mouth as you carried on a conversation with Lampo who, like you, was hiding out in the kitchen. For some reason, Giotto had agreed to let a couple of the Vongola family members bring their kids to work with them when there was nothing dangerous going on. Said family was important or some such Giotto-sounding thing.

Now, you weren't a bad person at all. Though you had your character flaws, that was for sure, you were generally a good person. But you just couldn't handle kids. You weren't good with them and they really annoyed you at points. Hey, you didn't figure that made you bad in any way…some people just weren't meant to be around kids. So you'd taken up hiding in the kitchen, talking with Lampo who didn't much care for kids either and had taken your idea of staying away from them.

But of course, you should've known that no place was safe from children. They always ran around and got into everything and everywhere. But you were still surprised when a little wisp of a girl, no older than six or seven, skipped into the kitchen. Was no place sacred?

You were even more surprised when she skipped her way over to the table, coming to stand in front of you, gazing up at you curiously as you looked down at her, popping a chocolate truffle in your mouth.

"Geez lady, you eat a lot," she said, tilting her head and staring at you.

You nearly choked on your truffle at that, glaring down at her. What a rude kid.

"Aren't you afraid that eating like that is going to make you fatter than you already are?" she asked, her tone innocent and questioning.

You swallowed your truffle, well aware that across the table, Lampo was nearly busting a rib from laughing so hard. Leaning down, you looked into the little girl's eyes, a small smile on your mouth.

"And aren't you afraid that if you keep saying things like that, you're going to grow up to be a bitter, mean old witch of a woman that everyone hates?" you asked her.

The little girl's mouth fell open and tears started to gather in her eyes. Lampo swallowed his laughter, shaking his head at the fact that you were fighting with a kid.

"You're mean! I'm telling my Daddy on you!" the girl screamed as she tore from the room crying.

Straightening back up, you popped another truffle in your mouth, chewing it slowly before turning to Lampo.

"Remind me to never have kids."

"Yeah, I think you really shouldn't," Lampo said, still shaking his head. "But that's okay. I'm not too fond of brats either."


	10. Truism 10

**Truism #10: Children are the hope of the future.**

You smiled happily, leaning farther back into your husband, loving the warmth and hardness of him as he cradled you to him. His hands were sitting on your swollen stomach, fingers rubbing your skin and tracing intricate little patterns. Glancing up at him, catching his lush amber eyes with your own, you placed a light peck on his jaw.

"I still can't believe we're going to be parents, Gio," you said, using the affectionate little pet-name you'd given him early on in your relationship.

"I know. It's amazing," he agreed, smiling down at you, his touch extra-gentle.

"What do you think he'll be like?" you asked him curiously.

"Him?" he asked, his tone teasing.

"Or her," you added as an afterthought.

"Well, I'm hoping healthy and happy," he said thoughtfully. "With your beauty and brains and my sense of time," he joked. You grimaced and faux laughed. It was no secret that you were notoriously late most of the time.

"No, I mean, what do you think our child will be like? What will he turn out like when he gets older? Will he be a great guy who helps out the world? Will he be spoiled, stupid and violent?" you said, listing off all the different personality traits off the top of your head, in a rather bad attempt to broach this subject you'd been wondering about.

"Of course not!" Giotto said, sounding shocked that you'd even think like that. "Our child wouldn't ever end up like that."

"You're a Mafioso," you reminded him gently. "Our child will be exposed to that at some point."

"Says who? Our child won't have to fight. I'll do it for him. He'll be able to grow up happy and he'll do wonderful things someday, just you wait and see," Giotto murmured softly in your ear, his hands cradling your belly and its precious contents even more gently. Yes, he'd see to it that his child got to live the future he or she wanted, a happy future where nobody would ever hurt him and he wouldn't have to worry about bullies and drug-dealers. He'd make sure his child had a life where the streets were clean and everything and everyone was happy and protected, no matter what the cost.


	11. Truism 11

_A/N: Edited some of the previous chapters - notably number eight because I rather hated the ending. Truisms 11 and 12 are hand in hand truisms - one situation but two truisms. Also, thanks to all you who have reviewed. You, my readers, are absolutely wonderful.

* * *

_

**Truism 11: Killing is unavoidable but nothing to be proud of  
**

It was your very first official mission for the Vongola family. Giotto and the others had been a bit wary to give you missions up until then, touting your weaker strength to their greater, your gender, your personality, everything they could think of to not assign you missions but you'd stood your ground. You wanted to contribute more to the family, you wanted to be a help to them and to you, the only way to do that was to do the work they were. So you'd gotten your mission though they'd made it the simplest one they could. There was a drug trafficking operation, run by a horrible man who stomped all over the residents and forced people into peddling his drugs for him by threats of death. They'd finally figured out who the main person was – his name, where to find him, etc. You'd been sent to go and talk to him, to try to make him clear out of town. Giotto had told you that the man himself was quite the coward and that if you threatened him enough, made him believe that you would act on those threats with no hesitation, he should flee town with no problems.

But isn't it funny how the most cowardly of men will turn into the most macho of thugs around women? This man, just like many other men like him, had figured that because of your gender, he could steamroll right over you. When it had become apparent to you that he would never clear out, you'd thought vaguely that you should send one of the men out to deal with him – just head out and let G. or Daemon or even Lampo take care of him. But he wasn't going to let you go so easily.

It hadn't taken more than the first strike of his closed fist to your face before your pride went up and your plan flew out the window. No man would get away with striking you and you had fought back. When he'd pulled a gun on you, you'd had no other choice. He'd made the mistake there, of course, of not only underestimating you but of drawing his gun in close quarters. Not enough actual battle experience on his part, you surmised, since anyone who'd been fighting long enough knew that between a gun and a knife, much like the knifes you carried, the knife would win within twenty-one feet.

You stared down at him now, knife rammed through his throat and blood coating the floor where he now laid. There were no tears on your face, no panicked look, nothing but a stony silence and a stoic expression. You'd killed him – you'd won the fight. Hadn't you been taught from early on that winning should make you feel happy, fill you with pride? So why were there no feelings of pride and happiness for winning here? Why wasn't there the sadness and the shock that you'd read about in books or heard about from others? You didn't know where they were but they certainly weren't there.

There was nothing there, in fact. You felt nothing – nothing towards the man you'd just killed or the act you'd just performed. Why was that?


	12. Truism 12

**Truism 12 : I need to lie back to front with someone who adores me  
**

Your mission completed, you'd returned to the Vongola head-quarters, still filled with that same emptiness. You weren't filled with excitement and thrilled excitement at what the men would think when you returned successful from your mission. You weren't feeling too much of anything still, something that you both struggled with and didn't mind at all. You couldn't explain the contradiction in your emotions, didn't even bother trying though you were an inquisitive person who usually over-analyzed every little thought to tiny bits. Oh well, out of sight and out of mind.

You'd entered the base, not stopping to talk to anyone, reporting straight to Giotto. He'd been worried over your report, asking how you were, fussing over you. You didn't like that one bit though. You didn't want him fussing over you like a mother hen – there was no reason to. You were fine, mostly unharmed, and you said so before politely excusing yourself. You were thankful when he didn't try to keep you there though his worried eyes on you as you exited the room made you feel like he was about to.

The water in the basin turned red as you cleaned yourself and though you normally hated things like that – things that reeked of bloodshed and battle always made you want to push them away, your stomach tipsy-turvy – you had no qualms looking in on it, didn't gag or feel horror as you reached into the bloodied water to pull the plug.

Why was that? You wondered this once more, thoughts echoing thoughts echoing thoughts into oblivion as your feet carried you to your bed, where you curled up on it completely oblivious and uncaring to your nakedness. Why weren't you feeling anything? How long would this last? You'd killed someone, you should feel something. So why didn't you?

You heard the door creak open and shut but a wave of exhaustion had wretched its way through your body and you didn't even have the energy to look. Didn't have the normal compulsion to see who was there even as they settled down on the bed, curling themselves up to you, lying back to front with their arm around your waist.

"I heard about the mission," Asari's voice whispered by your ear, concern evident in his tone.

You lay unmoving as you replied, not bothering to snuggle into him as usual. "And?"

"I was worried about you." He spoke as if it was the most logical conclusion in the world. What reason had he to be worried though? You'd returned safe, hadn't you?

"I'm fine."

"(Y/N)," Asari breathed out, stroking hair out of your face, staring down at your immobile features. You, who were always so alive and changeable, like a little kitten discovering the world, were now stoic, almost as if you were simply a statue of your former self.

"I killed him, Asari," you said, your voice deadpan and free of any emotions.

"I know."

"So why don't I feel anything?" you asked, sounding tired and world-weary, far older than your years.

He studied you for several minutes, letting silence linger before replying, his arms cradling you to him and his voice soothing, a comforting balm.

"Not knowing what you feel isn't the same as not feeling anything. But when you start to figure out what you feel, I want you to remember three things for me, love."

"What?"

"One, you did what you had to do. He would've killed you – there's no shame in self-preservation. Two, there's a lot of people whose lives you've made better. No more will the people have to live in fear of him or peddle his drugs just to save their lives."

Silence.

"What's the third?" you asked, curling deeper to him, wishing nothing more than to just be closer to him, to let him calm you and comfort you.

"That I'm proud of you, my love."


	13. Truism 13

**Truism 13: Fathers often use too much force.  
**

Screams and desperate crying were all that could be heard.

"MOMMY! DADDY! LET ME OUT! I SWEAR I'LL BE GOOD…MOMMY! I WANT A DRINK OF WATER! PLEASE!"

You were a nervous wreck. Bouncing up out of your chair, you had only taken two steps out of the sitting room, intending to go to your child, before a hand reached out and pulled you down into the chair again.

"He has to learn, (Y/N)."

"But Alaude! He's scared! Listen to him!"

"He's just carrying on because he knows you'll give in," your husband said, pinning you with one of his infamous glares. You sighed, your body tense and your constitution just about in ruins as your child screamed from his bedroom. It had been obvious from day one that Alaude was a strict disciplinarian when it came to your child while you, as he said, 'spoiled the child to the point of mollycoddling'. But this – this was too much.

"That's enough," you cried as your child's screams rose to a frantic level. "I'm going in to check on him."

But once again, as soon as you rose, you were pulled right back down in your chair.

"Sit," Alaude ordered before going back to his newspaper. Tears filled your eyes but nonetheless, you sat back down. And so it went on in cycles in the sitting room. You'd get up, he'd pull you back down, and the screaming in your child's room went on. It remained this way for about ten minutes before – to your absolute surprise – silence reigned.

"I told you," Alaude said, looking up at you over the top of his newspaper, his expression and voice smug. "He just needed to learn that he had to go to bed by himself."

You made a slight whimpering sound. My good god, you thought, hand fluttering to your chest. You hoped he was right – you couldn't handle another night of this.


	14. Truism 14

**Truism 14 : Illness is a state of mind.**

Your body ached, your head felt like it was about to explode, your stomach was doing flip-flops and you were seconds away from spewing out all you'd consumed in the last day or so. You wanted nothing more than to just fall into bed and sleep until you were feeling better. So why were you up and about, working as hard as you could?

Why, because everybody knew that being sick was all in your head, of course! This was nothing you couldn't handle!

You kept trying to think healthy thoughts, shoving your aches and pains and tipsy stomach to the back of your mind, assuring yourself you were healthy as a horse. You'd been doing this for hours now and so far, so good. You hadn't puked, fainted or gave any signs you were sick.

That was…until now, of course. Your stomach seemed to think it was plenty sick, thank you very much, because all of a sudden, you found yourself doubled over, mouth already opening as your body heaved, much to the twisted amusement of the man beside you who smoothly slid a bucket under you and held back your hair just in time as you started vomiting.

"Oh dear, oh dear," Daemon Spade said in what would have been a comforting tone had it not been for the amusement lacing it. "Is poor (Y/N) sick? That's not good. Now I'll have to nurse her back to health, won't I? But, oh no!" he gasped out as you continued being sick. "That means I won't be able to work! Oh well, Giotto will understand, don't you think, my pet?"

Finally done vomiting for the moment, you weakly raised a hand to wipe at your mouth before turning your head to glare up at him as he smiled down at you.

"What happened to 'being sick is all in your head', you bastard!" you croaked out.

"Ah, well, I lied. Now, we need to get you all warm – so let's go to bed…I've heard sex will make you sweat all that sickness out so how about we try that first?"


	15. Truism 15

_A/N: Anyone who can tell me where the inspiration for this came from (with the hint that it's a television show episode) gets a free one-shot/drabble!

* * *

_

**Truism 15 : It is heroic to try to stop time.**

'_And she's beautiful and he's handsome and maybe that's all they see at first. Maybe all there is at first is lust – but love…making love, two people becoming one…when time stops and all there is is the joining of you and him – that's magic, that's a miracle.'_

Giotto's words swam to the front of your pleasure soaked mind. Strong arms were wrapped around you, bodies connected, desperately searching to become completely one with the other. Amber eyes stared soulfully into yours and time really did seem to stand still. It's like the whole world stopped moving and all there was left in this unmoving world was you and him, bodies rocking, bringing pleasure to each other and joining two souls.

Yes, yes Giotto, you whispered in your mind. You were right – maybe there is such a thing as love creating miracles.


	16. Truism 16

**Truism 16 : It's impossible to reconcile your heart and your head.**

Hands shuffled paperwork, mind barely processing what was printed on the paper. Stamps and seals were pressed onto envelopes and papers. Words and greetings were said. The world still went around. Your mind told you it did – you saw it with your own eyes, felt it as it passed by, smelled, tasted, heard it. The world hadn't stopped just because he was gone. People still carried on about their business, children still played, goods still were exchanged from hand to hand, the sun still rose and set as it always had.

So why did your heart tell you it was all a lie?


	17. Truism 17

**Truism 17 : Keep something in reserve for emergencies.**

Always keep some cash stored away for a rainy day. Your mother had drilled that lesson into your head and it was one you heeded well. You squirreled away cash the way chipmunks did nuts and your rainy days were infrequent and always consisted of nothing more than a summer spray. A new pair of boots here, a new dress there. All in all, you'd always managed to keep a very respectable nest-egg stored away for that proverbial rainy day. But now…

You sighed, looking down at the stack of reports on the desk in front of you. Knuckles and Alaude, one said, had somehow managed to trash a very nice Italian bistro…you didn't even want to know how that had happened. Lampo had managed to break four windows this month alone, supposedly doing training. Daemon Spade had offered to pay to bury nine of the twenty people he'd 'accidentally' managed to kill this year. Giotto and G. managed to wear through clothes, shoes, furniture, anything really almost as fast as two little kids.

Forget a rainy day – these men of yours brought along a whole tropical storm in their wake.


	18. Truism 18

**Truism 18 : Loving animals is a substitute activity.**

It was foolish; you knew that from the start. Alaude wasn't one to fall in love after all, no matter how much you wanted to believe you could change that. He wasn't social; he didn't want or need any company but his own. He was stoic, collected, always calm and always, preferably, alone. He'd made it clear through a thousand different ways that he had no interest in being courted by the dozens of girls and women all too happy to do it. So why did your heart still skip a beat at the sight of him? Why did he occupy your waking moments, always frequent your dreams? He was nothing you wanted in a man and yet you couldn't stop these feelings towards him.

You used to swear you could make him love you like you loved him, back when you were foolish and naïve. You reasoned that he never openly rejected your company – he wouldn't kick you out when you spent time with him. Therefore, he must not completely dislike you. He was never mean to you, never hit you like the men he would rather go away – therefore, he must have a chivalrous side, especially when it came to you. He was so great with animals, even having a few pets. They took to him instinctively and though he was never forthright in his affection for them, he took care of them. That showed a capacity for great love, didn't it?

Yeah, you'd been foolish and naïve alright. Alaude, you thought now, only loved animals because he couldn't love humans – not even you.


	19. Truism 19

**Truism 19 : Private property created crime.**

"GIOTTO!"

Said man looked up at the resounding scream of his name, only to see G. come barreling into his office, pulling (Y/N) along with him and looking rather upset. Giotto could only groan, already preparing for the headache he knew would come. What now?

"What's wrong, my dear G.?"

"Ask her!" G. spit out, glaring at you as he snatched his hand away from you, almost as if you were diseased.

"(Y/N)?" Giotto questioned gently, looking at you with a gentle smile. He knew you had a little bit of a history for causing trouble but he was never one to jump to conclusions. G. might simply be over-reacting this time; it wasn't unheard of after all.

"Yes, Giotto?" you asked, sounding confused and completely innocent.

"Did you do something, my dear?"

"No, not that I know of," you said, smiling and looking as if you had no idea of what was going on around you. Come to think of it, that wasn't much of a stretch.

"DIDN'T DO ANYTHING!" G. shouted out. "YOU BROKE INTO MY ROOM!"

Giotto sighed, frowning. That wasn't much of a stretch either. "(Y/N)," he sighed. "Did you break into G.'s room again?"

"I might have."

"You might have?" Giotto asked, raising an eyebrow while G. fumed beside you.

"Okay, so I did…but I really needed something out of there."

"What would you need that badly that you couldn't just ask G.?"

"Paper. And I did ask G...he just refused to give me any."

"G.?" Giotto queried, turning his gaze to his right-hand man.

"You try having her throw paper airplanes at you for over three hours and then see how readily you'd give her paper," the other man replied, sounding quite grumpy.

"Ah, I see. Why didn't you just ask one of the others for paper, (y/n)?"

"Well, I was going to but then I started wondering why G. really didn't want me in his room – he has to be hiding something really big in there, right? And then, to make matters worse, he went and put a lock on his door just to keep me out so I figured really big didn't even measure up to whatever he was hiding in there! I just had to find out!" you implored, hoping Giotto would see the logic here.

"You broke into a locked room?" Giotto asked, a little dumb-founded. "Because you figured something exciting was behind there?"

"Yes! Exactly! It was all the stupid lock's fault! Locks are the reason people need to break into things!" you cried out, impassioned to your cause now.

"And was there anything hidden in there?" Giotto asked, definitely beginning to feel the headache.

"Not really…just dirty books about sex," you stated plainly, as if such things were basic day to day objects you regularly came upon. G. began to blush wildly by your side while Giotto cradled his head in his hands, trying desperately not to laugh.

"No more locks in this house and (y/n), stay out of other people's room please," he managed to say quite calmly before ordering you and G. out of the room. And then, and only then, did he promptly burst out laughing.

You looked back at the room you'd just exited – you could've sworn you'd heard roaring laughter from inside. But no, that couldn't be right…Giotto had seemed quite upset when you left, definitely not in the laughing mood. Oh well, that wasn't important. What was important was catching up to G., which wasn't that much trouble.

"So, G…" you said coquettishly. He just glared at you. "…how about putting those books of yours into practice?"


	20. Truism 20

**Truism 20 : Repetition is the best way to learn.**

Lampo rolled off of you, panting heavily and looking completely worn out. You, however, still hadn't broken a sweat; much less got your breath stolen from you. What had you been thinking, sleeping with this greenhorn little kid? Turning your head, you stared at him, an idea slowly working its way through your naughty little mind.

"You know…" you said, as he turned his head to gaze back at you, pride evident in his gaze. "You really aren't good at this."

And the pride vanished in an instant, replaced first by shock, then anger.

"What? How would you know what's good or bad?" he sulked, turning his head away from you with an angry look on his pretty face.

"Oh, come now, don't be like that," you purred. "You simply need to learn how to be better at it." Swinging your body up and over him, you straddled his lap, gazing down at him lustfully. "And you know what they say – repetition's the best way to learn."


	21. Truism 21

**Truism 21: Decadence can be an end of itself.**

_The little girl skipped around, babbling on and on as the little red-headed boy just stared at her, looking rather annoyed._

_"Don't treat me so lightly, G.! You'll see! Someday I'll be a great lady, with a huge manor of my own. I'll be just like all those pretty ladies in the square, riding in fancy carriages, drinking fine wines, dancing and being wooed by handsome men! I'll never have to worry about anything because I'll have servants to do everything for me. I can read, sleep late, ride horses all day! And then you'll be sorry for ever calling me that!"_

_"Che! Grow up, will ya? How's a little street-rat like you going to do that," the boy teased the little girl, smirking down at her dirty, smeared face._

_"I will! I will!" She screamed back at him. "Just you wait and see!"_

_G. only grinned at how easy it was to get a rise out of his little companion. "Fine then. I'll wait to see that when it never happens," he teased before tossing her his handkerchief. "Now clean up a bit so we can go get something to eat. My treat."_

Waking up slowly, the last vesiges of the dream (memory, memories were more like it) slipped free from G.'s mind. Blearily opening his eyes, he took a few moments to adjust to his surroundings, slowly blinking as he looked around the fancy room, not recognizing anything. It took a few seconds before his sleep befuddled mind remembered exactly where he was - a hotel in Genoa of course. He'd been sent here two days ago, on a mission from his beloved boss and friend Giotto. The mission had been completed earlier that morning and he'd returned to his hotel to get some sleep. Looking out the windows at the early evening sky, streaked in the golds and reds of the setting sun, he yawned, trying to blink himself out of his memories of you, his old childhood friend.

Genoa, eh? It was funny how the memories of you had come rushing back as soon as he heard the location assigned to him by the Primo. Genoa...where you and your dirt-poor family had moved all those years ago, your father constantly moving your too-large family all over Italy in search of work. He wondered absently if you were still in the area. Silly thought though. It was unlikely, given the nomadic nature of your family that you had stayed in Genoa for too long. Shame though, he would've loved to see you again. You had been such a beautiful girl when you were younger, so full of life and fire. He'd been so enraptured by you, poor, dirty and shabby as you were.

Sighing, he pushed himself off the bed and reached to retrieve his coat and shoes. He might as well go for a walk, grab something to eat before he headed back to Roma and his family. And that's just what he did, leaving the inn and just randomly walking. It wasn't until a few hours later, as he stopped at a cart full of pretty trinkets, thinking of taking something back for his sometimes lover in Roma, that he decided, on a whim, to ask the cart-keeper if he knew of you. Was tracking down an old friend, so he told him.

He hadn't been expecting anything more than a 'no, never heard of her, sorry Mister,' from the cart-keeper. It was to his surprise when the cart-keeper not only recognized the name but could give him an address as to where he could find you. Thanking the man profusely, he headed off, going to track down the address given to him.

It took him a while to find him and another surprise tingled through him. The neighborhood the street was on was a lush neighborhood, rich and decadent, full of sweeping, grand houses and neatly manicured shrubbery.

But it was the next surprise that really threw him for a loop. Walking up to the address, he caught a glimpse of the interior through the large windows. Lit up as they were, warm and inviting light fell on the scene inside. It wasn't an odd scene, not for this type of area. One of a courtesan, surrounded by well-groomed men as she entertained them, flirting, fluttering here and there among them, sipping a glass of ruby red wine as she bestowed kisses to few blessed souls. She was so beautiful, clean and polished. For a second, G. swore that she looked out the window and caught his eye. At least, he caught hers as he stared through the window. Beautiful (eye color) eyes, just the color yours had been...but they weren't your eyes any more. Because they were dead eyes, nothing more going on behind them like there had been before, when a million emotions had lit them up, darkened them, made them come alive.

Turning away, G. turned back down the walk, pushing his hands into the pocket of his coat. He felt like crying, but of course, he didn't. What was the point? He should've known after all - time killed everything, in one way or another.


	22. Truism 22

**Truism 22: Being honest is not always the kindest way**

It was the knocking at the door that woke you. You started awake, suddenly aware that someone was tapping on your door quite earnestly. You stared down at the man in your bed, his eyes alertly on yours. You knew he'd woken up at the sound of the first knock. He'd always been quite the light sleeper. Even your small movements during the night were enough to wake him, something he'd mentioned and complained about a number of times. You also knew, just as well as he did, that he wasn't going to get up and answer the door. That he couldn't.

Sighing, you looked out your bedroom window. It was still late at night, something you had figured seeming as your sometimes lover was still in the bed with you. With a few mumbling curses on whomever had deemed it necessary to knock on your door this late at night, you climbed out of your comfortable, warm bed and found your robe, wrapping it around yourself. Making your way out of the room, your feet padding against the cold wooden floors, you made your way to the door as fast as you could. Stretching up on your tip-toes, you looked through the peep-hole that you had installed in your door just earlier this week. Sighing and cursing your luck, you clicked the locks of your door open and turned the knob.

An attractive, though timid-looking blond woman stood on your doorstep, bundled up against the chilly weather. Anxious brown eyes peered up at you.

"Ah, (y/n)! I'm sorry to wake you so late but I can't find my husband anywheres? I don't suppose you know where he is?" she asked you, anxiety evident in her voice.

Tilting your head, you stared at her in alarm. Could she possibly know? Had you been found out? You kept your voice level and calm though, not giving away your own anxiety, something you considered a slight, though important, one-up on this woman.

"What makes you think I'd know where he is, Biancha?" you asked the woman, a hint of contempt and exasperation barely concealed in your voice. If she heard it though, she gave no signs, only looking up at you imploringly.

"Well, you're his secretary and all, so I figured you might know. Oh well...if you hear from him though, just let me know, okay?"

She waited for your nod, which you eagerly gave, anxious for her to leave. Closing the door on her retreating figure as she made her way down the path in front of your house, you cursed silently, merely mouthing the words as you locked the door once more.

Shaking your head as a pang of guilt tugged at your mind, you turned and headed back into the bedroom.

"Who was it?" your companion asked, casting his gaze towards you as you cast off the robe.

"Your wife. Looking for you," you said, a hint of contempt at your situation creeping into your voice.

"So what did you tell her?" he asked you, a hint of cautionary warning in his own.

"Nothing of course. When have I ever told her anything?" you asked as you slipped under the covers once more, his arms coming to wrap around your body, pulling you close to his body. No, you never told her…it was kinder for her to not know.


	23. Truism 23

**Truism 23: Dreaming while awake is a frightening contradiction**

Your eyes stared forwards, seemingly focused on the carafe of water in front of you though in truth you barely even noticed it was there. To be honest, you were completely spaced out, not noticing anything going on around you. Your physical body might have been sitting in this chair, in this meeting of the fledgling Vongola family, but your mind was somewhere else entirely, off in your own little world. That was you, forever with your head in the clouds. But who could blame you? The real world was just so boring. Your own world was much more interesting, constantly changing and shifting into whatever you wanted it to be.

At this moment, your mind was playing out one of your personal favorite scenes. It was a deeply romantic one, with a pair of lovers strolling hand in hand down a dimly lit street, which was empty save for them. The sky above was a velvety midnight blue, sparkling with thousands of stars that seemed to glow even more brilliantly than usual in the light of these young people's love.

The man, tall and lean with red hair the color of autumn leaves, casually and yet beautifully dressed, came to a halt, gently leading his lady to a stop as well.

The lady, modestly dressed though extraordinarily beautiful, looked quite a bit like you in this dream of yours.

"My love, what is it?" she entreated, raising one lace-gloved hand to place it on his distinctly tattooed face.

"Cara Mia," he breathed out, drawing her closer to him. "I'm madly in love with you. You're radiant, glorious. I feel I don't deserve you!"

"Oh dear me," she giggled, cuddling into him and batting her eyes fliratatiously. "I don't know what makes you flatter me so, darling! It is I that do not deserve you."

"How can you say such things? Look at you! You are ladylike and so beautiful. Every man wishes to be in my shoes! I just can't wrap my head around the fact that you are with me!"

"Oh G.! You're making me blush," she said, putting on a faux-severe look.

"My love! I simply cannot live without you…will you, perhaps," he said, his voice turning anxious. "Would you…"

"{Y/N}! {Y/N}! Are you listening?" Giotto's voice cut into the best part of your dream.

"Che! Fucking woman! Boss is talking to you!" G. said, voice harsh as you turned your gaze to catch him glaring severely at you.

Yes, yes, reality was so much more unsatisfying.


	24. Truism 24

**Truism 24: Dying and coming back gives you considerable perspective**

Two young men were sitting in one of the many rooms of the Vongola's base, busily at work. They'd been working all week on this project, barely sleeping or eating in preparation for this moment.

"Just a little bit…"

"Almost got it…"

"There!"

"It's finished!"

The two men celebrated for a second before loading the special bullet they had just completed into a special gun they'd also completed recently.

"Now just to test it," one of them said to his partner.

"But on who?" the other asked.

Luckily, their question needed no farther thinking as, just at that precise moment, you walked into the room, most likely coming to bother them and disrupt their work like you'd been doing much of the week. You called it checking up on them of course, but they preferred the first description.

"Hey guys, what's…"

That's as far as you got. Farther words fell silent, choked in your throat as you found a gun rapidly pointed at your head. As you watched the man's finger pull the trigger in a rapid motion, you couldn't believe it. You were going to die. You were going to die and there were so many things you had left undone and would never get to do.

The two men watched, dumb-struck, as you fell to the floor with a bullet hole oozing blood in your skull.

"That didn't work out too well," one of them said, his tone one of obvious panic.

"Oh my god, what have we done!" the other shouted, staring at you.

Farther panic would've commenced had you not, at that precise moment, seemed to burst out of yours clothes, sitting up in only your undergarments, flame burning brightly on your forehead where you had been shot.

Jumping up with an almighty shout, you raced out of the room.

"I WILL CONFESS TO ALAUDE WITH MY DYING WILL!" you shouted as you ran away. The two technician's stared, shocked and speechless after you.

"Does that mean it worked?"

"I think so."

"So let's….you know…"

"Never shoot her again. Sounds good to me."

It was, needless to say, a huge shock to you when five minutes later, with no understanding of how you had come to be there, much less clothed as immodestly as you were, you found yourself in front of the Cloud Guardian of the Vongola and all the other Guardians. Everyone around you looked absolutely shocked and as Giotto came forward to wrap his cloak around you, you gladly took it.

"So…what just happened?" you asked.


	25. Truism 25

**Truism 25: Dying should be as easy as falling off a log.**

The air outside was fresh and warm, a welcome change after what seemed like a solid month of rain. It hadn't helped that the last month had been a particularly stressful one. The fledgling Vongola Family that you'd become a part of had seemed to have taken off recently, becoming a force to be reckoned with. You were ecstatic about this. Who would have thought that this family your close friend had thought of on the fly would've ended up this well? Giotto's ideas were, after all, usually half-cocked, crazy, and doomed to failure. You were so excited that this had worked for him, so excited for him and everyone else that worked so hard.

Unfortunately, growing more powerful meant that people started gunning for you and so was the fate of the Vongola family. There were many awful people who wanted you and everyone else involved in the Vongola dead and had made this clear over the past month. About a week ago, after an attempt on both his life and yours while you two were out at market, he'd made it clear that you were to stay inside until things were a bit quieter.

But it was such a beautiful day out. Surely…just a short walk outside, barely out of the yard…it wouldn't hurt anything. You'd be safe. You hadn't run into any trouble so far after all.

A shot rang out through the air, the harsh retort quickly muffled and you thought no more, slumped down on the ground, a bloody wound staining the chest of your dress a deep red.

Smiling, the man on the rooftop opposite of your position smiled, lowering his weapon. You'd never even seen it coming.


	26. Truism 26

**Truism 26: Enjoy yourself because you can't change anything anyway.**

Poke. Poke. Poke.

You could tell by the look on his face that you were fast annoying him, not the smartest thing to do by most people's definitions. With one last poke of the feathery, though thankfully clean, quill, G. stopped what he was working on and glared up at you with unabashed anger.

"Stop that. Now," he warned, his voice stern and gruff.

"But I don't want to," you teased in a sing song voice, reversing the quill and swiping the feather across his nose, causing him to wrinkle up his face to suppress a sneeze, something you giggled at.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?"

"Nope. I can stay here all day, dear G. Don't you worry about that!" you said, smiling widely at him.

"No missions?"

"Nope. I decided to stop doing any work on missions because they never help anything anyways."

"They do so. And you make more work for the rest of us. Go ask Giotto for a mission and get out of my hair!"

"I don't want to!" you repeated more stubbornly this time.

"So go do paper-work. I'm sure there's enough of that that needs to be done."

"Why? There's only going to be more soon to do."

"Go clean!"

"That's boring. And besides, everything will get dirty again so it's a waste of time!"

"Go bother someone else!"

"But I have more fun being with you, G.! And isn't fun what life's all about?" you asked, batting your eyelashes at him and giving him your best puppy-dog face.

G. only sighed, cradling his head in his hands as he felt the start of yet another (y/n) induced migraine coming on. Why him?


	27. Truism 27

**Truism 27: Ensure that your life stays in flux.**

Always the last awake, you walked through the halls of the Vongola base, a place that was as much home to you as it was to anyone else. Drawing curtains, blowing out lamps, and checking on everyone one last time, you were preparing for bed yourself now. As you went through your nightly routine, you had to chuckle softly.

There had been a point when you were younger when you'd fantasized about what your life would end up like. You'd sworn you'd be constantly travelling, always busy and always having wild and crazy adventures all around the globe. It had seemed like such a glamorous life back then.

But nothing was ever quite the way you thought it was when you were a child. Though you did travel all over the world as an adult, you found yourself longing for home, one solid place under your feet that you could return to and settle down to. You did have several wild and crazy adventures throughout your life, though you'd learned they came in many different shapes and forms and weren't nearly as thrilling as you'd used to believe. You were always busy though, playing surrogate mother to a bunch of men your own age who wouldn't be able to find their way out of a wet paper bag, much less around a kitchen or sewing needle, without some sort of feminine help.

Looking in on the last of your friends, Lampo asleep and drooling onto his pillow, you turned away with a smile.

You wouldn't have your life any other way though.


	28. Truism 28

**Truism 28: Even your family can betray you.**

It was the stuff of back-room gossip now; stuff that was not quite legend, not quite fact – the betrayal of Primo's Mist Guardian. Even hundreds of years later, no one knew all the details, knew all the motives and secrets.

No one knew how unexpected it was. Though Spade was a bit odd and very vocal about how weak everyone save himself was, there was not one member of the Primo's family who would've suspected what he would go on to do.

No one knew how the Primo and his Guardians had been gone that day, leaving the base empty. No one knew they had been waiting for Spade, Giotto's heart growing sicker and more worried with every second his Mist Guardian had failed to show.

No one knew that the base had been next to unmanned when Spade had strolled in, no one paying him any more attention than they normally did. He took out all the men first, getting the biggest threat out of the way. The women had done the best to fight against him, the children hiding from him. But none of them were a match for him and he killed them all, even you – his lover. It was best not to leave anybody behind who could rise against him in the future.

No one knew what happened next, when the Primo came upon the scene. Not even you and your betrayed, damned soul.


	29. Truism 29

**Truism 29: Everything that's interesting is new.**

Sighing, you gripped the wicker basket containing your shopping tighter in your hands. You'd been feeling particularly dissatisfied these last couple weeks. It was like it had suddenly occurred to you that life was entirely passing you by and that you would never get a chance to catch up with it.

You looked all around you in obvious distaste. It was the same old town with the same old people. Nothing interesting ever happened, no one new ever seemed to move in, nobody did anything noteworthy. All in all, it was a boring town with meaningless people. Looking down at your feet beneath the skirt of your same old boring gray dress, you studied your same old, scuffed, black leather boots. You'd need a new pair soon. Might as well go and get them today, you thought, that would at least be something new.

During your walk over to the cobbler's, you got a little side-tracked though. Spotting a pair of familiar heads through the crowd, one blond and the other red, you figured you'd stop them to chat for a moment. G. and Giotto had, after all, been out of the town for a week now, off doing who knows what, who knows where. Maybe they would have brought back tales of something interesting that you could use to keep your mind busy during the daily monotony.

Upon hailing them, you did indeed manage to find your something new, much to your shock and surprise. Because, as they turned around to hail you back, you noticed a third head to their grouping. This newcomer with them was unlike anyone you'd ever seen before, tall and lean with hair blacker than even the darkest ink.

"Ah, (y/n)! How nice to see you again, have you been well?" Giotto asked, coming up to talk to you. G., as per the usual, just gave you a grunt and a nod.

You simply nodded, glancing up once more at the man you'd had yet to be introduced to, drinking in his newness, his exotic, handsome looks.

"Ah, excuse my slip of manners. This is my new friend, Asari Ugetsu," Giotto said with a knowing smile as he glanced between the two of you.

"Nice to meet you," Asari greeted you.

"The pleasure's all mine," you replied, completely sincere.

Now he was interesting.


	30. Truism 30

**Truism 30: Expiring for love is beautiful but stupid.**

It was one of those rare times, your favorite times, when you could just relax. There was nothing going on that needed your immediate attention and you had all the time in the world to just relax and give in to your laziness. And, of course, these times were always made better when they were shared by someone else.

That someone else was always the volunteer to laze about with you. Lampo, his eyes shut and his head cradled in his arms, was stretched out beside you on the floor of the foyer. He'd never understood why this, possibly the busiest part of any building, was your favorite place to just relax. You'd told him once that it made you feel even more amazing to watch all the people coming and going, all busy and rushing about when you were free to do nothing. He'd never gotten what you meant but it never did stop him from coming down and keeping you company. After all, you were a pretty good conversationalist at times and one place to kick back and do nothing was relatively as well as the next.

Right now he was listening, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards with amusement, as you rambled on and on about this 'Pie In The Sky Guy' of yours…your perfect man. He had to shake his head at that. After all, why were women always insisting on this great, wonderful man who'd sweep them off their feet, be utterly romantic and yet never be any less than a gentleman, never leave the toilet seat up, and blow their mind with amazing sex? All of these were traits you had listed and, if he hadn't known how much hoopla it would cause, he'd have reminded you long ago that there wasn't a man who did all those things all the time anywhere in the world.

"I want a man who'd die for me, he loves me that much!" you said softly, eyes gazing rapturously off into space, obviously caught up in fantasies of this wonderful fantasy man of yours.

"That's kind of stupid," Lampo said, unable to stay quiet at that one.

"How so?" you asked, honestly confused. Dying for someone you loved seemed the epitome of romance to you and you had no idea why anyone would think it was anything less.

"Well," Lampo murmured, shrugging his shoulders slightly. "It's kind of pointless to die for someone you love. I mean, what use would he be to you dead?"

"It's the thought of it, of being loved that much! It's romantic," you replied, your tone defensive. Men were so stupid sometimes, honestly, you thought. They never understood great romantic notions!

"I still think it's stupid," Lambo said, his tone showing his amusement at the fact that you'd gotten riled up so quickly. "I mean, wouldn't you rather have a man who'd be willing to fight against the most impossible of odds just to stay alive for you, just to make it back to you?" he asked casually.

You blinked for a second, shocked speechless. What had he just asked? That was such a beautiful sentiment, you thought, staring at him. Who'd ever known he had such a hidden romantic side?

"But where would anyone ever find such a man?" you said, sighing longingly.

"Well," Lampo said, cracking his eyes open a bit to peer up at you through thick lashes. "I'm not planning on going anywhere any time soon."


	31. Truism 31

**Truism 31 : A single event can have infinitely many interpretations**

"_Tell me, (y/n), would you like to become part of our family?" And he'd said it with a wide smile, hand stretched out for you to take, looking much like you imagined an angel might - this man who was offering you so much after you'd tried your best to rob him, to kill him if you must, this man who'd defeated you and yet showed you much kindness._

To Giotto, it had been an act of charity much needed and much rewarded. To him, your eyes, far older than your years and so widened and frightened after he'd stopped you from robbing him, frightened by what you thought he might do to you, by the threat of impending death, that had called out to him. You were strong enough to be scouted but most of all, he'd just wanted to take care of another human being, a little girl who should never have lived the life she'd been forced into. It was the acquisition of another family member, the start of a wonderful friendship, the gaining of a womanly force in the Vongola and the start of endless amusement at your antics.

To G., who was the frequent subject of your 'antic's'…torture, so he called them, it was the beginning of the descent into his personal hell.

To Asari, it was the finding of another friend, the start of watching a girl turn into a woman, and the start of many hours of pleasant conversation. It was the finding of a vital part of the family, of a comrade and sister and friend.

To Alaude, it was just the strengthening of the family, another person willing to do battle and more strength.

To Daemon Spade, it was the weakening of the Vongola, a sign of the weakening of the Primo and his all too human emotions.

To Lampo, it was simply another cute girl to flirt with.

But to you, who'd always lived the gutter-rat existence, growing up learning to fight, steal and kill to stay alive, who'd never known family or kindness or love, it had been so much more. It had been _life _that he'd given you, that blonde angel that day.


	32. Truism 32

_A/N: Again, truisms 32 and 33 are hand in hand truisms - two parts of the same story. Also, since this was mentioned in a review, do you readers find this series focuses too much on sexual themes and not enough on other things or am I focusing too much on other things and not enough on actual relationships? I'd love to hear it.  


* * *

_

**Truism 32 : Ideals are replaced by conventional goals at a certain age**

You'd always been a wide-eyed idealist, a little naïve and gullible and more than a touch optimistic. You were ready to sincerely believe the best about anyone and were always among the first to believe everything would work out if people just tried hard enough. That constant idealism was your worst quality, or so your father said. But then again, your father didn't approve of much about you, no matter how much you tried to make him.

Maybe that had been it, that idealism of yours mixed with the insane urge you'd always had to please your father and everyone else you'd met. Maybe that had been what had drawn him to you so quick, him who could smell weakness a mile away and who was so quick to exploit it. It was a game to him, it really was. He enjoyed the little games he had to play to win you completely over, the wealthy and affluent daughter of the boss of the biggest family next to the Vongola. It was a game to him to see how much it would take before he completely owned you, how long it would be before he could convince you to turn on your family for him. It was a game to him to see your wide-eyed idealism break and shatter as it got replaced by conventional goals, his goals.

And it was a game he'd won.


	33. Truism 33

**Truism 33 : Humanism is obsolete**

The lightning flickered outside. Fitting, really or so you thought as you made your way down into your father's study. He'd called for you tonight, instructed you to come to his study tonight to discuss some things. It was just as your lover had said it would go but then Spade did have a way of knowing exactly what would happen at any given moment. It was eerie, really, a bit awe-inspiring.

Knocking on the heavy door of the study, you waited to enter until your father gave you leave to. After all, he was the head of the household, the head of the great Capo family and you were expected to live according to his whims, obeying all his commands, even for things as to when you were allowed to enter rooms of this house you lived in.

Your father was a great leader for the family, you had no doubt of that. He was intimidating and ruled with an iron fist. His word was law and he expected everyone to obey it. And more importantly, much like in this meeting, he didn't beat around the bush. It was scarce seconds after you'd closed the door that he started right in on the topic that he had called you here to discuss.

"I hear you're spending a lot of time with that Vongola scum again," he said, his tone gentle but very, very angry.

"Yes, that's right."

"I thought I had forbidden you from associating with him."

"That's right, you did."

"And yet you continue to disobey me, daughter? Why?"

"I love him, Father," you said, your tone emotionless now. You'd pleaded this several times before with your father. He'd wanted you to have nothing to do with Daemon Spade, the mysterious and undeniably dangerous Mist Guardian of the mighty Vongola family. He'd told you Daemon was bad news, told you how he was only courting you to try to gain access to the Capo family's secrets, how he didn't give a damn about you but was nothing but a sneaky, conniving scum. You'd argued with him, convinced that Daemon loved you and knowing you loved him. He wasn't all those things your father accused him off, that all those other naysayers spoke about him. He was a good man, you believed this from the bottom of your heart. It was them that were in the wrong.

"You're soft, my daughter!" your father was scoffing. "Such a weak, gullible fool. Do you not know the world you live in by now? Your silly fantasies and your _love_ have no place in the real world, do you not understand this by now?"

You nodded your head. Yes, you understood this. Daemon had taught you this – your love for him and his for you…they weren't allowed in your father's world. Your father's world and the Vongola's world and the world in general. Well, fuck your father and fuck the rest of the world as well. If there was anything Daemon had taught you, it was that you really couldn't live off ideals, you had to make goals. And your goal, his goal – it was to make a world where love could be a factor.

Your father was looking at you expectedly and you smiled gently, softly, sweetly.

"Yes, Father. I understand. This world and the rule of it. Humanism is dead."

Your hand had reached beneath the bustled corset of your gown as you had started to speak and before he knew it, before you last sentence was even out, the gun was in your hand, the trigger pulled, and the bullet was in his brain.

Outside the door, Daemon smirked. It was all going to his plan. The Capo family wouldn't survive this, the murder of the Boss by the family's heir. They'd hold no threat to the Vongola any longer. Really, it had been worth the six months it had taken to turn you from a sweet, idealistic, naïve little buffoon to just another of his puppets.

As you exited the study, you turned towards him and buried yourself in his arms, ready for him to comfort you.

A strangled, clotted gasp came from your throat, blood bubbling from your lips and spilling onto the shoulder of his coat, the blade lodged in your stomach cutting straight through you.

"W-why?" you gasped out, the word barely discernable through the rush of blood.

"Why, darling, I thought you'd know?" Spade whispered into your ear, smirking and sounding all too pleased.

"_Humanism is obsolete."_


	34. Truism 34

**Truism 34 : If you can't leave your mark, give up**

There were days where you had to wonder what you were even doing here, why you were even a part of this stupid world and this whole stupid family. You were nothing special, nothing spectacular. Everyone else seemed to be better than you at everything. Sure, you could cook and clean better than the rest of them but really, what kind of a skill was that? A weak, sissy kind of skill, that was what.

So why were you here? Why did they keep you around despite the fact that you were weaker than they were? Why couldn't you do anything at all better than they could?

And the best question of all – why did you stay?

Except that question was the easiest to answer – just because you weren't as good as them, weren't as strong as them didn't mean you were just going to give up and quit. Because then, you'd be worse than even the lowest worm.


	35. Truism 35

**Truism 35 : If you live simply, there is nothing to worry about**

It was actually one of the few things, the few bits and bobs of advice and wisdom that your mother had chosen to pass on to you.

'_If you live simply and don't spend time wondering and worrying about what life would be like above your station, you'll have a happy life.'_

Your mother had lived by those words, in fact. She'd lived a simple, dull life with no excitement, no dreams and ambitions. She'd always been able to put food on the table, even if it was bland and uneventful. She'd always had a roof over her head and clothes for all the children, even if they weren't pretty and fancy. And she'd always been content with that – that simple, plain existence.

But you weren't your mother and no matter how hard you tried to heed her advice, you couldn't live the life she had, the life she'd wanted you to have.

And maybe she had been right – after all, though your life was filled with excitement and drama and barrels of fun, extraordinary times with your family, your lover, your friends, times you wouldn't have dreamed up even in your dizziest daydreams. But you also never ran out of things to worry about. Who'd come back beaten and broken next time? Would they come back at all? Would you end up beaten and broken and gone soon as well? There were endless worries, endless fears to plague you.

In the end though, there was no right way, no definite way that was best between your mother's way and yours. In the end, it was just another choice in life and you'd made it.

For better or worse, you'd made your choice.


	36. Truism 36

**Truism 36 : In some instances, it's better to die than continue**

You'd never have believed it, not in a million years. It had been the best kept secret in history, you believed, because not one of you had seen it coming.

But you…how couldn't you have known? You'd woken up beside him countless times, shared his bed, his table, _his life_. Or so you'd thought. It had all been just another illusion to him, hadn't it? You hadn't meant anything to him. All those 'I love you's were lies and all the times he'd held you for what seemed like hours on end just mere acts from some warped play.

And in the end, the play hadn't been some tempestuous romance. Your white knight had fallen…no, he'd done more than fallen. He'd jumped off and slain the horse so as to never regain his former mount.

Daemon Spade...your friend.

Daemon Spade…your lover.

Daemon Spade…your husband.

Daemon Spade…the traitor. He who'd murdered Vongola family members and split up the Guardian's of the Primo. The Primo who was now retired, his Guardians scattered to different places. Daemon sat on the Secondo's right hand side from what you'd heard.

And you? What were you doing now? You honestly didn't know…but it oft felt like you were just biding your time until death came and none too soon.


	37. Truism 37

_A/N: In the end, I had no idea what to do for this particular truism that wouldn't swell into unbelievable size. I'm not so sure anyone else will get how the truism relates to the drabble, but I hope you enjoy it anyway!

* * *

_

**Truism 37 : It is man's fate to outsmart himself**

Alaude was fiercely intelligent, able to read battles and opponents easily. His intelligence was cold and calculating. He relied solely on intellect and the keen workings of the mind instead of ever giving in to his feelings. All mind, no heart was the way some gossipy members of his foundation liked to whisper to each other.

And he'd have never thought it – that one man could defeat him, could completely break through every plan, every move, every trick Alaude threw at him. That one man could completely overcome Alaude's conceptions about him with almost no effort at all.

To him, it was completely alien, this stinging taste of defeat. And what's more, the other man hadn't been fighting coolly and rationally, he hadn't depended on his intelligence or plans or tricks. He'd simply acted, simply relied on intuition and the deeply felt urge to protect a friend.

In the end, his mind had meant nothing compared to this man's heart.


	38. Truism 38

**Truism 38 : It's crucial to have an active fantasy life**

Your life was far from normal. It was insane at best, complete and utter chaos at worst. There was always something going on, nothing ever stayed the same, you risked your life more times than you'd like to think about…it just wasn't all that normal and it definitely wasn't relaxing and simple.

You'd been asked more than a fair few times how you handled it, all the madness and chaos that constantly came with living the Mafia life. Your answer was always the same and always so hard for other people to understand.

_You just need to have two lives; it's as simple as that._

And maybe they didn't understand what you meant by that but you knew that what you had said was the truth. You couldn't just live completely in this life, completely in reality. You had another life, one completely in your head.

And in that life, you were happy and content. In that life, there was a big old villa in the Italian country-side where you and Giotto would live. And there'd be kids running about, constantly active and under your feet – little boys with Giotto's eyes running about, rough-housing and just being boys, little girls with your hair playing dolls and beating up her brothers when they wouldn't include her in their games. And Uncle G. would live right next door with his pretty, sweet wife and his brood of kids, who'd be raised right along with yours and G. would smile often and never have to worry about Giotto or any of the others. And Lampo would live with you two, just another one of your large brood because he was already as good as a younger brother to you and you wanted to see him grow into the gentleman you knew he could be, wanted him to have plenty of time to write his poetry, lounging around in the grass in the warm Italian sunshine, occasionally pausing to play with the children or to talk with you when you took him out a cup of coffee or maybe a nice goblet of wine.

And Asari would come and visit often, when he wasn't too busy performing in courts and castles, inns and taverns, his life filled with the music that meant so much to him and when he came, he'd make sure Alaude and Daemon Spade could as well and there'd be a great big dinner party and the kids would be tucked in early. Daemon would be happy, truly happy and he wouldn't have that tense edge to him, relaxed living and the love of the family and friends you all were mellowing him out. He'd have no worries, no frustrations weighing him down. And Alaude would smile, actually smile and be happy. He'd have his job, sure, he couldn't live without it but he'd have an outlet to relax, he'd learn to start letting down his walls a bit. And in this life, you wouldn't ever be in danger, there wouldn't be threats and wars and worries and death – there'd just be life and love and friendship.

So maybe it was a seemingly impossible fantasy and maybe it was far-fetched. But dreams and fantasies founded wishes and wishes founded plans and plans could bring about reality. And that fantasy and the thought of it someday becoming real kept you going through all the tough times and all the worries and heartache.


	39. Truism 39

**Truism 39 : It's just an accident that your parents are your parents**

You sighed, re-reading the letter for what seemed like the thousandth time. There were spots around the edges of the paper where your hands had gripped too hard or were too sweaty, making your mother's loopy, scrawling handwriting run and fade off.

You loved your family, your mother and father, you really did. You would be the first to say that. You'd also be the first to admit that they frustrated and annoyed you more than anyone else in the world could. Not even Spade or Lampo could stress you out as much as your parents did and that was most definitely saying something.

It was just that you and your family were so different. Your mother and father were a bit uppity, most definitely judgmental and they most definitely had very strict and set ideas on what their daughter should be doing with her life. Those ideas included a husband and children and living a nice, subservient life to a very rich, very powerful man.

They, of course, had no idea about what you were actually doing with your life. You couldn't tell them that you had joined the Mafia and were part of a family of mostly males, doing dangerous tasks on a regular basis. No, there was no way you could tell them that.

So you'd lied. You'd moved away from your village mere months before you'd met Giotto, had gone to the city after having secured a place as a governess. So, when you'd joined the family and given up your spot as a governess, you'd lied to your family about why, telling them that you'd been courted by Giotto and had gotten married to him. You'd written letters and spun lots and lots of lies to appease your family.

And now…those lies had definitely come back to bite you in the butt.

_Dear, I'm so pleased that your life as a wife is going so well and am so pleased to hear that I shall be expecting a grandchild. Your father and I have decided to come up and visit you. We shall be there in a week and we can't wait to meet your husband! Can't wait to see you!_

Oh yeah, had they ever come back to bite you.


	40. Truism 40

**Truism 40 : It's vital to live in harmony with nature**

Lampo had his fancy rooms. Alaude had his corporate walkways and echoey meeting rooms. Asari had his rivers and the water. Knuckles had the boxing ring. Daemon had the battle-field. Even Giotto had his spot in the nicely cobble-stoned streets of the city at night.

But to G., there was no place more relaxing, no place he'd rather spend his hours and his eternity than in the forests, with flowers and large trees and the sunshine streaming down. There was nothing but the animals, the plants, the wind and sun and him. It was absolute heaven, the peace and relaxation that came with being surrounded by nature.

"G! WHERE ARE YOOOOOUUUU?"

That was, there was nothing like it until you came along. Things were never quiet with you around.

But maybe…just maybe…that wasn't so bad either.


	41. Truism 41

**Truism 41 : Just believing something can make it happen**

You'd always heard that phrase. _Just believing something can make it happen. _And you'd always believed that fact, always thought that if you just believed hard enough, if you just kept optimistic and worked towards something, you could make it happen. It was a sad lesson though, the one you slowly learned. For no amount of believing could change certain things, couldn't teach an old dog new tricks so to speak. You couldn't make someone change if they didn't want to, couldn't make someone love you if they didn't. And Alaude was not at all in love with you and you were beginning to change your beliefs, accepting that there might not be too much you could do to change that.

Not all so called truisms were true. Or maybe the speaker of those truisms just never met the unmovable, unchangeable force that was Alaude.


	42. Truism 42

**Truism 42 : Learn to trust your own eyes**

And maybe you'd been naïve and maybe you'd been stupid and gullible. You knew what you were getting into, you knew this was the world of the Mafia. But you'd always believed them, always believed _him_. And what was more important, you believed _in _them. You believed that they were honestly good people, honestly trying to make the world a better place and that they wouldn't harm anyone unless they absolutely had to, unless it was necessary to make the world safer. You believed they only harmed evil people, people who honestly deserved to die.

But now…now you'd seen him mercilessly murder people you knew to be innocent, murder women and children without a smidgen of guilt on his end. All in the name of furthering the family. And you no longer knew what to believe. You couldn't go back to your former naiveté, but at the same time, you just didn't want to trust your own eyes, your own heart.


	43. Truism 43

**Truism 43 : Letting go is the hardest thing to do**

The first generation's time was over and the second's begun. All the family had scattered to the winds, everyone moving on and away.

But you wondered sometimes if any of them really did move on. You wondered if, like you, there were times they got all dressed up for church on Sundays, ready to hear what Knuckle would pick for a topic this week, only to remember that Knuckle didn't run the parish close-by anymore, that they or he had moved away. _Moved on. _

You wondered if there were times they, like you, went shopping and saw something that any of the others would've liked and tucked it into their shopping without thinking, without realizing that no one was around for them to give it to any more.

You wondered if there were times they, like you, just stood at the front door or out of the street, expecting to see one of them, any of them, heading your way. Hoping for it, wishing for it, missing them all from the bottom of your heart. But no one ever did show up and eventually, the door would close, legs would turn and head inside and tears would be held back.

You thought maybe they did, all of them. Because when you lived with anything or anyone long enough, it began to feel normal, natural, and comfortable. And maybe you moved away from that thing or person and maybe you moved on from them and that was easy enough to do.

But forget? Let go of that thing or person? _Now that was worlds harder._


	44. Truism 44

**Truism 44 : Listen when your body talks**

Women always knew their own bodies better than anyone else ever could. It was pure truth, pretty much an unwritten law. And you knew your own body all too well at the moment, knew all too well what was happening inside you. Your hands curled protectively around your abdomen, encasing the precious bundle you knew was growing inside you as you stared around the now empty-looking room. All your stuff was in the suitcase at your feet and the letter you'd written was on the bare desk. Just a simple line so he wouldn't worry, as you made your escape while he was gone.

_G., I can't do this anymore. I'm leaving._


	45. Truism 45

**Truism 45 : Mothers shouldn't make too many sacrifices**

Your hands were wrapped around your swollen abdomen, delighting in each kick that you felt as you stared out the window at the huge back yard of your new home. You'd only been here six months now but it had felt much shorter. In between enjoying each moment of your baby's birth and grieving for the family and lover you'd left behind, time had flown.

A knock at the door interrupted your internal reverie and you froze for a second, tensing up. You relaxed in a second though. It was a old habit that you hadn't quite fallen out of, that paranoia that had come with being part of a Mafia family. Figuring it was just the kind old woman from next door, you hurried to answer the knock, honestly glad at the thought of having some company.

It certainly wasn't your neighbor, was all you could think as you opened the door. You stood, speechless and wide-eyed as you stared at him, stared at the lover you'd left standing on your doorstep, glaring daggers at you.

"You're a fucking idiot," he growled out.

You spluttered indignantly at that, finally shocked back into speech.

"I leave for six months, you somehow track me down, and all you can tell me is I'm an idiot?" you question angrily. "No 'nice to see you, how you doing?'"

His glare intensified.

"There's a hell of a lot more I intend to tell you," G. growled out as he shoved past you, not even waiting for an invitation inside.

Angry yourself now, you slammed the door and spun around to face him, glaring back at him.

"How'd you find me?" you demanded.

"Alaude. And it sure wasn't easy, let me tell you that!"

"Yeah, well, I didn't want it to be!"

"Stupid, stubborn fucking twit!" he growled, raking his hands through his hair and reaching for a smoke.

"HEY! Not around the baby, you dumbass!" you cried, grabbing it from his hands. He had the dignity to look guilty for a second, mumbling out an apology as his eyes drifted down to your stomach.

"It's mine, isn't it?" he asked, the anger gone from his tone.

"Yeah," you said, your anger suddenly deflated now as well.

An awkward silence fell, your eyes cast downward, unwilling to meet his own. You could feel tears clogging up in the back of your eyes, though you couldn't say exactly why. This was all so overwhelming.

"Then why'd you leave?"

His tone was gentle now, almost beseeching. He actually sounded sad, to tell the truth, something you'd rarely heard in his voice.

"Why should I have stayed? I didn't want a baby to live in that sort of life and I couldn't live it myself anymore."

"I would've taken care of you! I would've made sure you two wouldn't have to live that life!"

"How, G.? That's your life, that's where you belong! We would've gotten dragged into it in some way at some time!"

A pause. And then came a question you weren't sure of how to answer.

"And how I feel has no meaning in any of this?"

You stood, speechless, tears now free-falling, staring at the floor. In seconds, you felt something you'd been longing for for months without even knowing you had been – the warm strength of his arms as he cradled you, not saying anything, just holding you.

"I want this family too," he whispered in your ear. "You. And our child. You don't have to do this alone. Can't you let me help, can't we be a family?"

A shaky breath.

_"Yes."_


	46. Truism 46

**Truism 46 : Looking back is the first sign of aging and decay**

It's funny how fast life flies by you and it's even funnier, reflected Giotto, how you never notice it's doing so. It didn't seem so long ago, he thought with a smile as he remembered days past, that he'd had to force Lampo to do much of anything – fight, play nice with others, pick up after himself, stop mouthing off. Now he had someone else to nag at him, Giotto wasn't needed for that task anymore. And while he was glad for that – after all, while he certainly enjoyed the respect that came with being a 'father' to his family, he really wasn't all that in love with the actual 'fathering' – he had to admit, if only to himself, that he'd miss having to do that as well. It had become such a day-to-day thing, it would seem odd not to have to worry about it anymore.

And he remembered you, how you'd used to stomp around in pigtails and men's clothing, demanding to be treated equal to the boys. And he remembered having to break up fist-fights, remind you to play nice, remember your manners, stop beating up Lampo, and many other things. But he really hadn't needed to tell you anything like that in a while. You'd grown into such a lovely woman, strong and capable yet compassionate and kind, velvet wrapping iron. And that had never been more clear than today as he'd walked you down the aisle.

It had been a lovely wedding, he'd made sure of that. You'd looked lovely and Lampo dashing and neither of you had been able to stop smiling. Knuckles had kept the ceremony simple but beautiful and he hadn't seen many dry eyes in the church, not even his. He'd fumbled through toasts and dances. But most of all, most importantly, he'd remembered. Remembered every moment with you two.

As he slipped out of the church unseen, he couldn't help but sigh, though he smiled still.

When had he become so old?


	47. Truism 47

**Truism 47 : Low expectations are good protection**

No one could understand why you'd started a relationship with the Primo's Cloud Guardian. After all, he was more than a bit of a loner, tending to keep to himself more often than not, even when around you. They couldn't understand how you could put up with him easily dismissing you, how you could deal with the fact he thought nothing of leaving for weeks on end without a single word of farewell to you.

You knew though. Alaude might not be the most communicative of lovers, he might not dote on you and he certainly wasn't romantic, far from it. But you'd gone into the relationship, became his lover, expecting nothing from him. You found it worked well that way. Because every time he did something nice, each time he complimented you, reached out and held your hand for no reason besides to touch you, you were pleasantly surprised. And those were the moments that kept you around.


	48. Truism 48

**Truism 48 : Moderation kills the spirit**

You were the type of person who always wanted more. You wanted more fun, more excitement, more from life. You wanted more missions, more danger, more experience. You wanted more laughter, more games. And you most definitely wanted more of him. He was your sweetest downfall, your weakest point, your most seductive drug. Knowing that you couldn't have all you wanted of him, knowing that his priesthood, robes and tradition kept you from drinking your fill of him…it was killing you slowly. Even the others had noticed the change in you, your normally exuberant and bubbly personality shadowed now by melancholy introspection and depression.

But only you and he knew why.

_You needed more._

_He couldn't give you more._

It was a doomed thing from the start.


	49. Truism 49

**Truism 49 : Much was decided before you were born**

If someone had ever asked you if you believed in fate, your answer would have been instantaneous and firm.

_Yes._

Life dealt you cards before you were even born – parents, social class, looks…so many things were decided for you and there was nothing you could do to change them.

And life just kept hitting you with new cards, removing cards from your hand, playing the big, faceless dealer as you lived and grew. And sure, if you were a cool enough player, maybe you could slip an ace up your sleeve and change your hand. But for most people, their hands were predetermined and there wasn't too much they could do about it.

But you also would've smiled at them, glanced to the side where it was pretty sure they'd spot one of your many cards in that hand of cards your life had given you. Maybe it would have Giotto, maybe Lampo, maybe G. or Knuckle, sometimes even Alaude or Daemon. And you would've laughed and told them not to worry about fate, feel sad at all about it. Because life had a habit of dealing out pretty good hands most of the time.


	50. Truism 50

**Truism 50 : Murder has its sexual side**

And there were times, when in the heat of a fight, his adrenaline would pump red hot and his whole body felt like it was on fire. And he'd delight in making the other person scream out from fear and pain, delight in each injury, in each spurt of blood until the final elation of the last breath from his opponent's body came.

And those were the times he'd head back to you, covered in someone else's blood, grinning like a maniac. And he'd seize you roughly and, with the vestiges of that pure rush still singing through his body, force you roughly onto the floor or against the wall and delight in an earthier type of joy.

And those were the times you feared him, your lover, your friend.

Because those were the times you felt that maybe you were really getting a look at the monster under the mask.

_At the true Daemon Spade._


End file.
